


If Opposites Attract...

by aspiringenjolras



Series: The Nine Lives of Broadway Jellicles [3]
Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Gen, I hate myself for this ship, M/M, Pining, Tuggershanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringenjolras/pseuds/aspiringenjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tugger is used to all the Jellicles fawning over him. So when he develops an unrequited crush on someone unexpected, he has absolutely no idea how to handle it. Luckily, Mistoffelees is there to help give unsolicited advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Opposites Attract...

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on a combination of my own observations of Tyler!Tugger during Skimbleshanks' song on Broadway, and a conversation I had with Tyler following the show about the same thing. 
> 
> I really didn't intend to ship Tuggershanks, but here we are. 
> 
> I also am a very dialogue-based writer. So there is going to be a lot of dialogue. Brace yourselves.

“I hate the way he just… argh.” Mistoffelees watched in amusement as Tugger paced back and forth, lashing his tail in frustration. “He thinks he’s so great, the way he prances around in his little vest, and talks about the damn train, like he’s on top of the world—”

“For the record, he has been up above the city on the—” A dustball thrown in Mistoffelees’ direction shut him up.

“I hate him,” Tugger finalized lamely. The two cats looked at each other, one wound up and irritated, the other relaxed and amused.

“If I may say so—”

“No.”

“Just let me finish—”

“Fine.”

“I don’t think you hate him.”

“Yes, I d—”

“I think you like him quite a lot.”

“You take that back." Tugger leapt at Mistoffelees, knocking the smaller cat over, and they tussled for a minute before Tugger sat up, glaring at Mistoffelees.

“He’s annoying,” Tugger complained. “He takes the attention away from me.”

Mistoffelees snorted. “Oh. _That’s_ what this is about. You’re jealous because he’s stealing your spotlight.”

“Exactly!” Tugger jumped at the suggestion. “It’s like he’s trying to copy me or something. But no one really likes him, right? Everyone sees through his stories.”

“Well, you two really are incredibly similar,” Misto mused, a smile on his face. “But if I hear you say that the Junkyard isn’t big enough for you both, I’m disowning you.”

Feigning hurt, Tugger trotted over to Misto, nudging his shoulder. “You can’t disown me. I’m your uncle.”

“You’re not my _real_ uncle,” Misto pointed out. “I can do whatever I want and if you keep being annoying I’m going to disown you.”

“You know I can’t help it. Annoying is ingrained in my personality.”

“Don’t remind me.”

They looked at each other for a minute, before both bursting out laughing.

“Go get some rest now,” Tugger said, nudging Misto slightly. “You have a rehearsal yourself tonight, don’t you?”

The smaller cat shot Tugger a smile and ran down to his pipe, leaving Tugger alone on his perch to watch the rest of Skimble’s dance.

 

***

 

Two days passed in a similar fashion, with each cat perfecting their own routine. Whenever Mistoffelees did his tricks, he would be overcome with nerves, and it was only Tugger’s encouraging words that helped him get through it.

Tugger’s song, however, by the day before the ball, was a hot mess. He forget the words, he tripped over his tail, and his eyes were all over the place.

“Okay, we’re taking ten,” Mistoffelees grumbled as Tugger bumped into him for the third time.

“Hey, this is _my_ song, you’re not my _director_ ,” Tugger complained as Misto dragged him off to the sidelines.

“If that’s what I have to be, then fine. But Tugger, what’s going on? You’re obviously distracted, why don’t you tell me so I can help.” Misto held him at arm’s length by the shoulders, trying to read his face. The other cat’s eyes were still directed across the Junkyard, searching for something Mistoffelees couldn’t see, even when he glanced over his shoulder. And still he hadn’t responded. “ _Tugger_!”

His eyes locked on Misto’s, a deep frown settling on his face. “Is Jenny pregnant again?”

Misto gaped at Tugger. “You can’t just ask that!”

“Okay, but is she?”

Misto sighed dramatically and lowered his voice. “Yes, she is. She hasn’t told anyone but I heard Coricopat and Tantomile talking about it yesterday.”

“Who do you think the father is?”

“Holy Heaviside, Tugger. Why is it so important to you what’s going on in her personal life?” Misto crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, you know what they say,” Tugger said with a devilish grin. “The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat.” They stared at each other, Tugger looking pleased with himself and Mistoffelees unamused. After a moment, Tugger deflated.

“D’ya think it’s Skimbleshanks again?” he asked, and suddenly it all made sense to Mistoffelees.

_Of course. No wonder he’s distracted…_

“It probably is,” Mistoffelees answered after a moment. “But, if it makes you feel better, I _also_ heard that they’re… taking some time off.”

“You sure get a lot of the gossip around here, kitten.” Artfully, Tugger dodged the comment about this news making him feel better. This didn’t go unnoticed by Mistoffelees, who chose to not comment.

“I’m not a kitten anymore, Tugger,” Mistoffelees huffed. “And what do you expect? There are benefits to being able to get around unseen.”

They lapsed back into silence, a setting that they could usually maintain comfortably around each other, but this time it was filled with an anxious air. Finally, Mistoffelees was unable to hold it in anymore.

“Are you going to say it, or do I have to?” Tugger shot him a look, almost comically panicked, and Misto took that as a cue that yes, he was going to have to drag it out of Tugger. “You could’ve just said you _liked_ Skimble. There’s nothing _wrong_ with that.”

Tugger pressed his ears back, defensive. “ _Don’t say it so loudly_ ,” he hissed. _No one is going to hear us_ , Mistoffelees thought, but he said nothing in response, letting the older cat go on. “Look, Misto. I’m not— I’m not used to… Everyone is supposed to fawn over _me_!”

 _Oh, so humble._ Mistoffelees shook his head. “And now you’re upset because you like someone who sees right through your antics and isn’t impressed one bit.”

“He doesn’t know I exist!” Tugger moaned, and Mistoffelees noted silently that the two cats truly did have a flair for the dramatic in their own ways.

“I’m pretty sure he does,” he quipped. “You make it impossible for anyone not to.”

“I hate you,” Tugger grumbled, and Mistoffelees grinned.

“Like you hate Skimble?”

“Shut _up_!” Mistoffelees could only laugh at Tugger’s frustration. “Besides, like you said, Jenny’s kits are probably his. He’s like… the epitome of a straight guy.”

“Tugger, come on.” Misto crossed his arms. “Have you even seen him? He’s not straight. No way.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Tugger relented, though if he had perked up a little bit he would never let it show. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sure he hates me.”

 _You’re probably right about that_ , Mistoffelees thought. “Come on. Let’s get back to rehearsal.”

 

***

 

The night of the Ball was upon them. All worries of the previous few days seemed to vanish as the Jellicles milled around the Junkyard, waiting for the entire tribe to arrive, bar old Deuteronomy who was likely to show up partway through.

Tugger’s performance went with ease, and none of the younger cats, not even Mistoffelees could resist dancing and singing along. Mostly, however, Misto did it so he could keep an eye on Tugger in case he got distracted— which he never did. For once, he was completely on top of his game. Misto gave himself a mental pat on the back. Maybe yesterday’s pep talk had worked after all.

Everything ran smoothly until Skimbleshanks’ song. Misto’s nerves about his own performance were coming back, so he wandered off into a nook to warm up his magic.

Above, Tugger watched the song and dance with an unimpressed look. In fact, for the first minute or two, he paid no attention to Skimbleshanks at all— or he tried not to. He tried to convince himself it was still because he absolutely could not stand the Railway Cat’s flamboyant arrogance. But he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

_If I go down there, I’m going to make a fool out of myself. And then everyone will see, and make fun of me. Especially him. And then he’ll hate me even more. Holy Heaviside, I wish Mistoffelees was here. He’d know what to say. Actually, no. I know what he’d say. He’d tell me to go dance. But I’m not going to. So actually, probably a good thing he’s not here._

A few of the kittens wandered up to Tugger during the song, wondering why he wasn’t participating in the festivities. He just tucked his legs in and watched, paying them no mind. However— once they had all gone back to dancing along and the attention was off of him, Tugger stood and sang along as loud as he could. At least he could show his support for Skimble from his perch, even if he was too intimidated to join below. Perhaps things were looking up after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the first in what I hope will be more of a collection of stories based on the Broadway revival cast of Cats. The individual fics will exist all in the same universe, but may or may not have a direct correlation to the ones immediately preceding and following them. 
> 
> Each fic, like this one, will use specifics from the 2016 Broadway revival. Outside headcanons may come into play, but not ones that only are relevant to, say, the 1998 film version. More likely, these will come from observations of the relationships between the characters as I see them on stage.


End file.
